


Long Distance Isn't Working

by nishasnixha



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 11:20:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1224370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nishasnixha/pseuds/nishasnixha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles hated college.</p>
<p>Not in the way one might think a college student hates college although that would be easier. He could try and say it wasn’t for a Derek related reason, but he honestly has no idea who he’s trying to kid.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>;Hooray for college!au</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Distance Isn't Working

Stiles hated college.

Not in the way one might think a college student hates college although that would be easier. He could try and say it wasn’t for a Derek related reason, but he honestly has no idea who he’s trying to kid. 

It just sucks when your boyfriend is in California because that’s where he lives with his psycho uncle who is under house arrest and on a shitload of medication–although Peter does seem to be doing much better, apparently.

The drive from Cali to New York was a three days, maybe four tops. It’s been 5 weeks since Stiles and Scott have moved to NYU and everytime Stiles skyped with Derek to ask him to visit him because he misses him dammit, Derek kept saying that he just wanted to make sure that Stiles was settled in first. 

Idiot.

Stiles still remembers how in the weeks leading up to the big move, he had basically lived in Derek’s loft. It had started with him coming over in the evenings and staying until late but then progressed to him coming around much earlier, like in the mornings, and leaving much later, like in the mornings of the next day. 

It was all fine because his dad was the Sheriff and was working overtime at the station –something about constant break-ins and paperwork- thus wasn’t home for longer than two hours which would make yelling at Stiles for doing the same thing hypocritical.

His dad knew of course, about Derek and about their relationship. He reaction when Stiles had told him was him blinking about 50 times at Stiles before saying, “Good for you, son. When can I meet him?” to which Stiles had chocked on his orange juice that he had nervously been chugging down waiting for his dad to say something. 

“You’ve met Derek before,” he said, his throat burning.

“Yes, two years ago when I had to tell him about his sister who was murdered by his lunatic uncle. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to meet him as my son’s boyfriend and have a pleasant conversation over dinner that doesn’t involve murder. The exception being when I do the if-you-ever-break-my-son’s-heart-I-will-shoot-you thing that dad’s get to do.”

It was actually an entertaining dinner. Derek was nervous and adorable and would call the Sheriff, “Sir,” which amused the shit out of him.

Now it’s been five weeks and three days since he’s moved away from his home in Beacon Hills, his dad, his high school, his Derek. 

In the first two weeks here, he had trouble sleeping, not used to the cold of the room without Derek’s strong and firm torso pressed up against his back, giving out heat like the furnace he was. Not used to waking up and not feeling Derek’s nose nuzzled against the nape of his neck. Not used to not spending hours talking to –or at, seems more appropriate- Derek about absolutely nothing or getting into long debates about silly stuff like books and movies. 

Most of all, Stiles was not used to the feeling where he felt like he had been split in half and would never really be completely whole again without Derek Hale, as cheesy as it sounds. 

He’s mostly been burying himself in his college work, trying to boycott all parties and leaving his dorm only for his lectures and the occasional trip to the 7-Eleven just south of his dorm building to get some milk and instant coffee since Scott is terrible at that sort of thing.

Scott, his best friend since forever and now dorm mate who is out somewhere having fun.

Or not, since Stiles can hear the lock on the door turning.

“Stiles, your moping is now starting to affect my ability to be a rampant college student that doesn’t do any coursework and goes to parties to make out with drunk girls,” Scott said upon entering the dorm.

“Consider it my favour to humanity. Do we really need another rampant college student? Or you making out with drunk girls when I thought you have a crush on that girl in your engineering class. Hello to you too by the way,” Stiles said from his bed where he was spread out on his back, greatly resembling a starfish. 

He barely looked at Scott and honestly, Stiles’ didn’t really want to look at anyone that wasn’t Derek.

Derek, who was all sharply defined cheekbones and had the most amazing blue eyes he had ever seen that Stiles thought he could swim in them for hours.

“Her name is Kira, and we’re friends,” Scott said a little hesitantly, sitting at the edge of Stiles’ bed. “Lydia’s throwing a party tonight at 8 and I asked Kira if she wanted to come and she said yes, so we’ll see how it goes,” he said with a shrug laced with nervousness that Stiles could see right through. "Come with us. Keep me from doing or saying something idiotic.”

“I actually can’t help you out much in that department. If you want to date her, she should know the real you. Idiocy and all.”

Scott’s snarky response was to flick Stiles’ forehead before heading to the bathroom for a shower.

He was out in 5 minutes and it him 10 more to pick out his outfit –the same jeans he had been wearing earlier, a plain white shirt that did wonders for him and his red converse-, only to change his shirt twice –both sweaters- and then changing back to the first shirt he picked out before finally leaving.

Scott, was like a puppy wrapped up in sunshine. Everyone loves Scott. It’s sort of impossible not to love Scott.

“You sure you don’t want to come?” Scott asked him as he was heading out the door, shrugging on his jacket.

“I’m good thanks. Go have fun with Kira,” Stiles replied to which Scott gave him a grin and thumbs up, before leaving and Stiles was alone again. 

Rolling onto his stomach, he felt a deep ache in his chest and it’s there when he lulls off to sleep and it’s there when he wakes in the morning, like the twist of knife embedded in his heart. 

His lecture for his sociology class was at 8 in the morning and was for 4 hours with a half hour break. There was still an hour left and Stiles thought his head was going to explode and he sighed, wanting to get to his dorm to see if Derek was on Skype and talk to him because the ache in his chest hasn’t left and he needs to hear Derek’s voice. Danny, the only friend he had made in the class -because let’s be real, at one point Stiles is going to need a study buddy that actually knows what the subject is about- pinches the bridge of his nose. “Dude, stop moping. It’s affecting my concentration to make notes.” 

“I am not moping,” he deadpaned.

Danny sighed and turned to look at him. “When did you last speak to him?”

“3 days ago. He wasn’t on Skype yesterday or the day before. He’s not answering my calls either.”

Danny gave him a sad smile at that. It was infuriating really.

“Maybe he’s just out of coverage.”

“Or maybe he’s avoiding me because he’s trying to think of the perfect way to tell me that this long-distance thing isn’t working out.”

Danny actually looked a little surprised at that and frankly, Stiles was too. He didn’t mean to say this thought he’d been having out loud. His brain to mouth filter had short-circuited again. Or maybe he was just too tired to care.

“Do you really believe what you have with Derek is that fragile?” Danny asked.

“I don’t think I ever want to find out, but, here we are.”

 

The door to the dorm room was ajar and Stiles was mentally cursing Scott and would curse at him to his face when he saw him, because, seriously his freaking laptop is in there and anyone could’ve walked in and stolen stuff.

Pushing the door open, he saw a figure sitting on the edge of his bed, holding his pillow to his face and Stiles panicked and was frantically looking for a weapon around the room when his brain freezed. His whole body turned rigid, blinking like he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming.

He knew that jacket. He knew that stupid black leather jacket that fit his boyfriend so perfectly; it was like it was sewn especially for him. He knew that if he wore that jacket it would sag around his shoulders with too much space in the sleeves and would go all the way past his wrists. He knew because he had tried it on once and Derek had laughed and said that it was the cutest thing he’d ever seen. It had proceeded from there into a great make-out session only to be interrupted by the pizza delivery guy that was ringing the bell of Derek’s loft that Stiles didn’t even know existed because he just always let himself in, knowing where Derek kept the spare key. (Underneath a plant that was in the middle of his door and his neighbor that they have never met.)

And now that jacket was here, on the body of his boyfriend who was also here and Stiles needed moment because his heart was beating so fast all of a sudden that he thought it was going to leap right out of his chest and that would be a gruesome thing and he would die and he so didn’t want to die right now.

Derek’s head had jerked up and Stiles wondered if his heartbeat was so loud that maybe Derek had heard it.

He stood up quickly, putting Stiles’ pillow back on the bed.

“Stiles,” he said, and he was panting like he had run a marathon and there was the all too familiar lilt in Derek’s voice in the way he said Stiles’ name. Like it was his favourite word in the whole English language and he felt something inside him crumble. 

In two steps Stiles was standing in front of him and in half a millisecond they were kissing. It was wet and sloppy and desperate but shit, it was amazing and good. To run his hands through Derek’s stupid hair and to feel Derek’s nails digging into his back and to bring his hands down from Derek’s hair and run his hands all over Derek’s muscled chest and shit, did Derek get buffer since I last saw him?

Derek was the one who broke the kiss much to Stiles’ dismay but he only rested his forehead against Stiles’, trying to catch his breath.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Stiles said, wheezing the words out because he was seriously out of breath too.

“Same here. I’ve been driving for hours and hours.” 

Derek took the dorm room in, his forehead never leaving Stiles’ but his eyes darting around and noting the messy study table and Scott’s guitar at the foot of his bed before finally resting on Stiles’ bed right next to them.

“So,” he said, pulling back slightly, “how’s your classes?”

“That’s for later when I take you out to dinner at this amazing diner with cheeseburgers that will make you believe in the existence of God. Right now, we have better things to do.” 

With that, he turned around and grabbed one of Scott’s discarded socks from the floor –because apparently Scott McCall doesn’t believe in putting his socks in a hamper- and got to do what he’s wanted to do since he came to college and asked Derek to visit him.

He got to put the sock on the doorknob.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked the thing that I wrote at like, 2.00 in the morning because I have a lot of feelings. Particularly about this geeky human boy (who is not so geeky as of late) and this stupid sour wolf (who is less sour than when this term was first used.) bYE


End file.
